


We Go Forward

by DarkElements10



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkElements10/pseuds/DarkElements10
Summary: The revolt was coming, they just had to wait for the right time. That’s what Stella Maris heard for seventeen years. "The revolt is coming," Curtis reassured her. Now the time has come, and she finds herself wondering what lies before them once they did take over the train. Or if they’d live long enough to see it come to fruition. Or if it was worth it. [Curtis x OC][Edgar x OC]
Relationships: Curtis Everett/Original Female Character(s), Edgar (Snowpiercer)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**01**

* * *

“Stells.”

She let out a slow breath before opening her eyes, shifted them over to meet the blues that practically glowed through the darkness that surrounded them. Along the rattling of the dark, damp, dilapidated train car around them, it would’ve been a near demonic glow, juxtaposed against the darkness that lined his brows creasing together.

For a moment, Stella wondered what could’ve brought Curtis to her attention, but then figured it out when her eyes shifted aside to the empty spot in the air beside him. Stella groaned, turning her head back against her stained pillow—if you could call a flattened piece of fabric with strips of stained clothing, leftovers from the ones before a pillow—and closed her eyes once more.

“Kim?” She asked, in case she was wrong. Knew she was right.

“Not much time until count.”

“Right.” Stella sat up, being careful to keep from striking her head against the bunk above her. The scar across her forehead proved the many times she’d made that mistake when first getting acclimated. Now, if she’d momentarily forgotten, allowed her mind to take her to places she’d hadn’t thought on in _years_ , her beanie would’ve kept her head safe. She swung her legs to the side of the bunk, kicking her legs back and forth like a child. “How much longer ‘til count?”

Curtis’s eyebrow rose. “Two minutes.”

Stella closed her eyes. _Kim, if you make us late._ She didn’t need to finish the thought with a threat of death. That was a threat they got for even looking at any of the guards sideways. “Got it.” She jumped down from her bed, pushed past Curtis, and started on her search.

“Make it fast!” Curtis called after her.

Stella raised her hand, marking a salute off her forehead and into the air. All but added a “yes, sir,” in response. She knew from experience that Curtis hated that. She caught the eye of a young teen, no older than eighteen and smiled at the snicker he shot her way. At least there was something to laugh about.

There was one place within the entire train that would be enough for anyone to get any sort of privacy. Not that privacy was any sort of luxury. It took everyone a few days of holding in their bodily functions before they got over the embarrassment of having to relieve themselves in front of each other. Before they’d been able to build some semblance of a bathroom. A literal piss closet as it were.

 _Seventeen years since then, trapped in a metal can like sardines and you get to know the way of life,_ Stella thought as she went.

Humming to herself, Stella made her way among the maze-like walkways of the tail-section of the train. A sort of maze that those in the front section would never be able to decipher. Would find themselves lost in sooner than they could tear their stuck up, snotty noses away from their Kronol and their high of life.

As she went, she greeted all the passengers that turned her way, all leaning over their bunks. The little kids sat nearby, playing hand clap games and repeating rhymes that Stella remembered from when she was a little girl. Thoughts that seemed so far away, that they could’ve been another life. She didn’t think about that part of her life too often. Couldn’t think of it too long without finding her pillow soaked with tears of what had been and what had become.

Couldn’t think too much of it without having the image of her parents coming to mind. Where they’d simply stopped running, rushing through the snow that kicked up in all directions, turned to each other, and embraced as the icy cold washed over them, freezing them in seconds. Stella hadn’t noticed they were no longer behind her until after she’d made it to the door of the train, swung herself inside, and extended her hand to bring them in.

Her hand had met the cold air, fingertips turning black almost at the outset, jaw frozen open when she saw her parents slowly getting chipped away from those that crashed into them in their haste to get to safety. And she stared, no matter those that jostled around her, nearly forced her onto her back. All until a strong hand on her shoulder and yanked her back, leaving her to shiver on the floor of the train, but not from the cold.

“Hey Stella,” Tanya greeted her from her bunk. She looked at the woman and shook her head. “Girl, you look like you on a mission.”

“I am,” Stella replied, slowing enough to stop by the bunk. “I’m looking for Kimberly and Edgar.” She leaned over and waved to Timmy, smiling wider when the five-year-old waved back, his head poking out from beneath his mother’s blankets. A cruel game of hide and seek that had no winner and no loser.

“Girl.” Tanya shook her head. She looked to Timmy then at Stella out the corner of her eye. A pointed look that only those about twelve or so—or maybe kids were hitting puberty younger and younger—would understand. “You already know what they’re up to.”

“Yeah…” Stella nodded. “Yeah, I have a feeling. But, what else can you do for entertainment around here. We’re not getting any younger.”

“And Curtis always makes you look for them to…?” Tanya tipped her head, making Stella roll her eyes. “Girl, none of us here is dead. How do you think Timmy ended up here?” She gestured toward her son, who giggled quietly beneath the blankets he continued to wrap himself in. “If there’s anyone on this entire train that needs to be laid it’s—” Stella held up a hand. Tanya ‘mhmed’ under her breath then reached out, patting Stella on the shoulder. “Everyone needs a little comfort sometime. You could try and find it in worse places.”

A brief memory entered Stella’s head, a fragment of a memory really. Of the youngest on the train, two seventeen-year-olds getting to know each other. Needing comfort in some of the most harrowing times they’d ever experienced. But, like the snow that drifted on the Earth around them, it got dog-piled by what was more important.

“It’s almost time for count,” Stella reminded her.

“Oh, I better go now then,” Tanya remarked. “You know how long it can take to get a stubborn five-year-old to want to give up their warmth.” She turned to the lump under the blankets and started to poke and prod at it, making giggles escape even louder from the blankets. “Go on, we’ll be there in time for the count.”

“I’ll grab an extra bar for you,” Stella promised and kept going. Kept going most of the way to the back of the train. Every few steps she’d have to throw out her hands to absorb a potential fall, waiting for the trembling and lullabylike rattling to stop before continuing.

Not to the _very,_ very back of the train, that was Gilliam’s space. But she at least of another space that held a tiny amount of privacy. And that was where Stella immediately went, and leaned against the outside, sighing heavily when she heard the deep moans and light giggling. Reaching out, Stella knocked on the doorframe of the makeshift closet.

“Yeah, just a minute!” Edgar’s accented voice called back.

“You’ll only need a minute if you want your head to get blown off,” Stella shot back.

There was a sound of fumbling, the sound of a belt buckle fastening, and frantic shushing before the moth-eaten curtain was pulled back, revealing Edgar’s grinning face. “I thought I _was_ getting my head blown off,” he replied, cheekily.

Kimberly stood up from her crouch position next to him, and swatted him on the shoulder with a hissed cry of, “Shut _up_ , Ed!” before slipping out of the closet to stand next to Stella. Neither having the grace to even blush.

“It’s almost time for count,” Stella said simply.

The change of expression in Edgar’s face was marked. The bright, smarmy smile that held onto the only moment of pure pleasure anyone could get on the train, morphed into a serious one and he took off in the direction Stella had come from.

Stella and Kimberly followed at a slower pace. As they walked, Stella glanced at Kimberly, who was a beautiful girl despite how malnourished she was from her seventeen years of living on only protein bars. Stella could hardly imagine how an infant had managed to live for so long, but Kimberly and Edgar had done it. Timmy had done it. And there were plenty other little kids that came about. And yet, Kimberly, somehow, still managed to hold her exotic look, from parents unknown.

Unremembered.

Her eyes were large, expressive. It was no wonder she was the only one who could reel in Edgar’s erratic personality. Even better than Curtis could.

 _That’s what happens in captivity,_ Stella reminded herself. _You get to learn each other’s idiosyncrasies. How they tick, what they mean from a simple facial movement._ And Stella got the message loud and clear from the way Kimberly folded her arms over her chest, her long hair swinging behind her, face filled with grime that still allowed her spunk to shine through.

“Do you have to be such a mom?” Kimberly huffed.

“Ah, I just wanted you have that sense of normalcy that the rest of us got to live through,” Stella joked. She put her arm around Kimberly’s shoulders, pulling the young teen into her side. “Embarrassing moments and all. I mean, I was the one who had to fasten you a bra out of some guys boxers.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Kimberly looked away.

“The least you can be is grateful.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so grateful for that jock itch I had to deal with for weeks. Thanks, Stells, you’re a pal.”

“Hey.” Stella nudged Kimberly until the younger girl looked at her, eyebrows pinched together in the expression of defiance she seemed to be born with. “Who else is going to look out for you like that?” Kimberly’s face softened and she looked away. “Well, other than Edgar, I mean.”

“We’re going to get married.”

Kimberly said it with so much sincerity that a pang of pain hit Stella’s heart. Or maybe it was a tiny trace of jealousy. Jealousy of what she knew she wouldn’t have. Would never have. What sort of a life was marriage when the union would be commiserated by another lap around on the train tracks to nowhere?

“Let me know when you get the ring,” was all Stella said in response. “I’d love to see it.”

The two made it to the very front of the tail end section and moved to take their usual places among the other downtrodden tail-sectioners. Stella pushed her way forward to stand with Curtis and Edgar while Kimberly stuck behind her with Tanya.

Everyone in their place. Just in time for the doors to open and the guards to come through, covered in armor and carrying AK-47s slung around their shoulders. One stood just beside the door, holding onto a counter.

“Alright, get in line,” The one with the counter said. _As if we’ve never done this before,_ Stella thought, watching him passively. “Everyone sti down.” He clicked once and the first row of people immediately dropped to a seated position. “Two.” Another click, another drop. “Three…four…”

Stella waited until it was their turn and dropped down along with the rest of their line. Save for Curtis, who continued to stay up, leaned just slightly to the left so that he could see straight ahead. The guard noticed after a few more clicks and pointed directly at him.

“Hey, you, sit down,” the guard said. He held out his hand, pointed toward Curtis. He made a lowering gesture with his hand. Curtis ignored him completely, staring into the space just behind the guard.

“Curtis,” Edgar whispered.

Stella’s eyebrows came together as she looked up at Curtis. Watched him closely. Just as closely as the guard who continued to count, but kept his eyes deadlocked on the blue-eyed man. “Sit down,” the guard snapped. Curtis continued to stand until the guard pointed the muzzle of the gun toward him. “I said sit down.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Edgar hissed when Curtis finally reprieved and sat, bringing up his arms to wrap around his knees. He snickered at Kimberly’s quiet comment of, “Looks like _he_ wanted to get his head blown off.” His snicker was cut short when Curtis responded gruflly.

“Counting.”

Edgar’s eyes just widened. His jaw slackened, but he was never at a loss for words. A trait that, at the worst of times, Stella found more than annoying. “Can’t you sit and count? Do you want to get shot? You crazy?”

“Shut up, Edgar. I’m thinking.”

Stella shook her head, bringing up her hand to rake through her ratty hair. Fingers getting stuck in the knots at the ends of her strands. “Don’t hurt yourself. I heard too much thinking can do that.” She shook her head. “Or, in Ed’s case I guess _not_ thinking is more painful.”

At that, Curtis cracked the tiniest of smiles.

“Are there any experienced violinists here?” The guard then asked as they all stood up to get into their food lines, all shuffling forward at the same time, in the same pace.

“Violinists!” Edgar spat. He twisted around to talk to Curtis, Stella, and Kimberly. “Are they having a laugh? Those bastards up front think they own us.” He sucked in hard through his nose and spat on the floor, a loogie striking the cold metal by a guard’s foot. The guard glared at Edgar and Edgar glared back as they kept moving forward. “Eating their steak dinners and listening to their string quartets.”

“You don’t even know what steak tastes like,” Kimberly pointed out.

“Neither do you!”

Stella’s stomach clenched, mouth immediately filled with water at the memory of steak. Edgar and Kimberly were lucky to not remember it. They didn’t know what they were missing. Literally.

Curtis seemed to have the same sentiment, for he merely grunted, “It’ll be different when we get there.” Then paused and added, “ _We’ll_ be different.”

Stella merely sighed when it was her turn to get good. _If you can call this shit, food,_ she thought, upper lip curling. When it was her turn, she reached in and grabbed a dark, gelatinous blob of protein. Of course they couldn’t call it anything more than a ‘protein bar’ and they were lucky if that’s what it even was. Nothing about it tasted like protein. It simply tasted like rancid Jell-O. _Not that I know what Jell-O tastes like, anymore._ She surreptitiously reached her arm back when she was passing it and grabbed another bar, sticking it into the pocket of her jacket.

She continued to shuffle forward and back around to the bunk, lifting her head when she heard a quiet, elderly voice speak up. An older man and his wife moved forward, Stella recognized them—Gregory and Doris. One of the sweetest couples on the train. She slowed to a stop, watching them.

“Excuse me, sir,” Gregory said to the guard, patting his wife’s hand. “My wife and I played in the Boston Symphony Orchestra.”

The guard’s eyes bounced off them with disinterest. “Can you still play?”

“Of course!” Gregory replied with an air of pride. His eyes twinkled beneath the grime that mottled his face. “You never forget.” He smiled lovingly at Doris, who smiled back.

“Show me your hands.” The guard stepped forward as the older couple held out their hands. He examined them for a moment before nodding toward Gregory. “You, follow me. Leave your belongings. We just need your hands.”

“Not both?”

“Yes. Both hands.”

Even from where Stella stood, she could hear the sarcasm and annoyance in the guard’s tone, turning to leave the tail-section as quickly as he could. Gregory quickly took a step forward, clutching his wife’s hand even harder.

“My wife, Doris, plays beautifully. Better than me”

“They just need one person.”

“Then I won’t go.”

“Stells.” Curtis called her name. She ignored him. “There’s nothing you can do for them. Let them go.”

Intuitively, she knew Curtis was right. There was a reason everyone in the tail section tended to stick to themselves. If they had something someone else wanted, they bartered. They were a little family in the ways they comforted each other. But when it all came down to it, they were all on their own. Nevertheless, Stella couldn’t help but watch the couple turn their back son the guards.

And watched the guard come close to the, bringing his gun up over his head, ready to strike. Like a viper, showing off its gleaming teeth, readying itself to swallow a mouse in one gulp. Gregory and Doris were just as feeble.

So much so that Stella couldn’t help but hiss, “Doris!” in alarm. Then winced, turning away at the sound of Doris’s cries when she was forced to the ground before her hands were stomped upon. Turned back just in time to see blood spray across the floor with a gun being cracked against Doris’s nose. Stella started forward but Curtis grabbed her by the elbow in a vicegrip, pulling her back.

“Sit down,” Curtis said, pulling her down along with the rest of the tail sectioners who were directed to do so.

“But they can’t just--” Edgar started to protest.

“Sit. Down.” Curtis declared. He didn’t release his grasp on Stella’s arm until she sat next to him. Still kept his hand hovering near her thigh, a warm pressure to remind her he was there. And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

“Those fucking bastards,” Edgar grumbled.

“Now’s not the time,” Curtis said.

“When is the time?” Kimberly mumbled.

Curtis took in a deep breath and lowered his head. “Soon.”

Stella was about to call him out for it. He’d been saying that for days. But something in his voice, that time, was different. And as much as Stella hated to get her hopes up, something about Curtis’s tone made her believe him.

Soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

* * *

Stella could feel Curtis's gaze burning into her back, but didn't dare turn around, knowing if she looked at him, her anger would explode on him as his would on her. It wouldn't be the first—or last—time over the last seventeen years they'd known each other.

Nevertheless, she ignored him as she left the line gathering food to go back to her bunk. Which she remaindered, too late, was closest to Curtis's, as it had been since they first boarded the train. How she could be so stupid to forget that? Well, it was easy when the sense of fear of having the guards come after her was a real, tangible thing.

She'd heard Curtis saying to 'sit down' and that there was nothing she could do to help Gregory and Doris. Even a tiny part of her was going shut up, shut up, shut up, shutupshutupshutup, SHUTUPSHUTP! But she couldn't silence that voice in her head long enough to realize how bad of an idea it was. It was nothing short of a miracle that the gun hadn't been turned around to be smashed directly into her face.

Her broken nose, one that seemed to have grown lopsided no matter how long puberty was in the past, was a testament of that the first time she'd defied the guards. The second and third times had resulted in broken fingers and withholding of food until Tanya practically force fed her like her son Timothy. And liquified protein bars was much worse than when they were in their Jell-O form. An almost impossible feat, but a reality.

A disgusting reality.

She's made it halfway to her bed before she sensed—rather than felt—Curtis at her side. She still didn't want to look at him lest she managed to lash out and cause even more problems. The side-effect of medication she hadn't been able to take since it ran out in month two of their journey.

Something so small that no one would've thought about, when getting on the train and saving their own lives were more important. But there'd been enough times that those who were deemed mentally unstable were purged from the train; one minute there, the next lost in the swirling vortex of the snow that they whizzed by. Frozen within minutes if not on impact of the icy air.

And, she thought, I'm not going to risk that.

"You shouldn't have done that," Curtis said, lowering his voice as he glanced at the bunk mates around them. He reached up an arm, resting it on the bunk above her so not to fall as the train made a sudden, sharp turn that slammed the unexpecting to the floor. Like zombies, they picked themselves up and kept going.

Stella expected to have a normal, civil conversation, it went flying out the window the second the words came from Curtis's mouth. The second he spoke father-like, almost condescendingly, at her. She lifted her head and glared back at Curtis. "You shouldn't have stopped me!"

He shook his head, remained calm. A trait she found equally inspiring and infuriating. "It wasn't safe."

Stella slapped her protein bar onto her bed. Chunks of the wiggling blob stuck to her fingers and she brushed it away with rough swipes of her hands. "I don't know if you've noticed, Curtis, but none of this is safe," she pointed out. Defiantly, she lifted her chin and look him in the eye. "None of it. I couldn't sit back and let that happen to them." She shook her head. "It's not fair."

"I don't think _you've_ noticed, Stella," Curtis shot back, using her tone back against her. His eyebrows pinched so hard on his forehead that the skin surrounding it wrinkled. The loose skin from malnourishment that aged him. His hand tightened on the mattress so hard his hand started to shake. "But none of this is fair."

"Ha ha." Stella rolled her eyes.

He was silent for a moment. Then, he let out a breath, licked his lips. Looked almost apologetic. Stella looked back at him curiously, almost daring him to say what he wanted to say. Curtis didn't apologize for much, and when he did, it was something he knew would hurt the person he was speaking to. Or had acted against. "I know you're still upset about your parents—"

"—Stop—" Stella turned away from him.

"—But you can't replace them by trying to help everyone—"

"—Curt—"

"—It's not going to bring them back."

Stella stared at him. She opened her mouth to speak, no words came out. Well, she thought. He did sort of warn me. Warned her with the apologetic look he'd given her. But she'd never thought he would've thrown it in her face like that. Not when he knew how much it still hurt. "I know that!" She spat back at him. "I stopped wishing for that years ago. I stopped _thinking_ about how I watched their frozen bodies—statues—get chipped away, broken, and _shattered_ by the people who were trying to get on the train. Every man for himself, right?"

Curt blew a breath through his nose, waiting.

"I can't believe you just said that to me."

His eyes flashed, taking on a sudden cold fire. "Stella, I need you to be safe."

"And I'm safe following everything you say, right?" Laughing, Stella said. "You wouldn't have gotten as far as you did if I wasn't around to help you." She gave him a meaningful look. He looked away, briefly closing his eyes. There. She hit _him_ where it hurt that time. Knew he understood _exactly_ what she was talking about.

Silence stretched between them. And it was then, Stella realized, that it wasn't just between the two of them, but the entire train had fallen silent. Nothing was heard above the sound of the train moving over the tracks in the rhythmic tone that had become background noise to them as the years passed. (So much so that Stella barely noticed when the train slowed down to drop off the heavy load of dead bodies). All eyes were on the, watching and listening.

Surreptitiously, Stella glanced around at the faces that tried not to show they were listening to the two—and those that were clearly listening to them. Kimberly rose her eyebrows, her eyes shifting between them while Edgar tried to, at least, grab her attention away. But Kimberly was unflappable with shame, and continued to push Edgar away from her as she watched the two.

"Are you going to help me this time?"

Curtis's voice brought Stella back to attention.

She lifted an eyebrow, her nose and mouth suddenly twitching to the side. A tic she hadn't been able to hide since she was a child. "On that revolution dream."

"It's not a dream. It's going to happen."

"Yeah, right."

Curtis smiled.

That smile erased the tension through the air and life slowly came back to the tail section. Everyone talked quietly to each other as they ate their protein bars. Stella picked up her protein bar and took a bite, the disgusting taste was something no one could get used to, but she'd stopped making a face at it ages ago. The texture, however, was the pat she couldn't get past. The squishing and squelching between her teeth that made her want to swallow it whole was more than enough.

Edgar wasn't helping much. "What does steak taste like again?" He jiggled his protein bar in his hand, watching it swinging back and forth. "I had it once, but I don't remember."

"Would you shut up about the fucking steak?" Kimberly demanded with a roll of her eyes. "It's all you talk about!"

"It's better than all of the wedding dresses, love," Edgar replied. He continued to shake his protein bar back and forth. "At least I've got a better chance of getting some steak." He bobbed his head back and forth. "Actually, I don't know, there might be a wedding chapel up there."

"Or a boutique," Kimberly agreed. She looped her free arm through his, resting her chin on his shoulder. "With the most expensive clothes in the world. I'd love to see a train car like that."

"So you can play dress up?" Stella teased.

Kimberly looked affronted. "No, so once this whole thing ends," she made a twirling gesture with her finger. "Those dresses are going to be currency and those are going to fetch a pretty penny. Then we can throw the biggest wedding party ever!" She smiled warmly at Edgar—a smile that she only gave him—and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before adding, even sweeter, "With steak."

Edgar smiled, kissing her back. "Thanks, love." Then he looked to his protein bar and sighed heavily, taking another bite. "I wish I remembered what it tasted like."

Curtis sighed heavily, but with a growl at the end of his. He looked toward Edgar, the one look making him get to his feet and tuck his protein bar into the pocket of his jacket. "If you don't remember, then it's better to forget." He tipped his head to the side, motioning for Edgar to follow him when he left the train.

Stella locked eyes with Kimberly, who rolled her eyes ands tuck out her tongue behind Edgar's back. In the grand scheme of things, it was always going to be everyone following Curtis and what he said. Honestly, Stella was glad. If she tried to run things again…She slammed her eyes shut, trying to turn her mind's eye away from the dark memory that tried to creep back up from the cage she banished it to.

Then she looked to Curtis, who looked back at her, eyes searching her face. Wondering if she was going to be joining them, simultaneously apologizing. She couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized to her, outright said the words, "I'm sorry."—didn't _want_ to remember when he had. He'd said it over and over the first time she broke down about her parents. Where she clung to him as the only sort of comfort—there were enough men that leered at her that she didn't even went to risk talking to them—where he'd held her, kissed her…

"There'd be even more to worry about," Stella said, speaking quickly so that she'd shut off where her mind was going. What her heart hoped it could get back to. "All the other foods you'd have tried eating before." She ran a hand through her hair. "I miss spaghetti."

"Come on." Curtis pointed toward Kimberly, who started to stand up. "Stay here."

"But—"

"—Stay!" Stella commanded.

Kimberly folded her arms, sticking out her lower lip. "Fine!" She turned her back to the group.

Shaking her head, Stella followed Curtis and Edgar through the tail section train compartments. Every few seconds they passed someone; they'd stop to examine the protein bars in their hands. Stella wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, but Curtis had said they'd know it when they saw it. And there was no one she trusted more than Curtis.

For better or worse, Stella thought with an ironic eyeroll. She rolled her eyes even harder when Edgar continued to blather away as they moved along the train. How Curtis managed to keep his cool with Edgar wanting to do everything he did, he wasn't sure.

"But what does it smell like when it's cooking though?" Edgar asked as they continued on. He stuck close to Curtis, glancing over his shoulders when the older man would check a protein block for…something. "When it's emanating around the place?"

"Shut up, Ed," Curtis and Stella snapped in unison.

They continued searching, stopping long enough to give a gentle shake of their heads, a 'no' when someone asked if they'd found what they were looking for. Clearly, he'd been working on things longer than we thought, Stella thought as they continued on.

"Curtis!" Tanya's excited voice rose over the sound of the train clacking over the tracks. "Here!" Curtis, Edgar, and Stella hurried toward Tanya's voice and, when they arrived, found her pointing toward her son, who sat curled up in the corner of their bunk, clutching something tightly to his chest.

A smile came to Curtis's lips as he squatted next to the young boy, who looked back at him suspiciously. "Timbo," Curtis greeted him. "How's it hanging buddy?" Stella grinned at Tanya over the top of Curtis's head, the two sharing a knowing smile. There weren't many kids on the train, but Curtis seemed to have a soft spot for all of them, no matter how much he tried to keep to himself. Curtis held up a closed fist, bringing it close to Timmy. "Give me a pound. Blow it up." Timmy beamed and bumped fists with Curtis then brought his hands back to his lap. "Listen, I think I need that protein block." He motioned toward the one in Edgar's hand. "What if I trade you this one for that one?"

Timmy tilted his head, studied Curtis, then shook his head. "No." Stella laughed quietly to herself. Timmy's 'no' held no conviction. It was quiet, questioning. What was in it for him?

"Nice bargaining powers, Curtis," Edgar said gruffly. He leaned over the older man's shoulder, starting to grab for the food in the young boy's hand. Timmy leaned back out of the way. "Here, I'll give you this one for that one."

"Relax." Curtis waved Edgar off. "Relax, relax."

"If this is the way you act with Kim, I'm surprised she's agreed to marry you," Stella teased, eyes flashing.

Edgar waved it off, giving a cheeky grin. "What can I say? The girl loves me."

"You sure she's not just desperate?"

Tanya laughed and leaned over, picking up her son to rest on her lap. She bounced him on her knee, making him giggle quietly. "I have an idea, baby." She said to him. He looked up at her with wide eyes. "I'll give you this one _and_ that one," she motioned to the protein bars Curtis and Edgar both held. Then pointed to the one in his lap. "For _that_ one. What do you say?"

"No!" Timmy wiggled out of Tanya's grasp and started to run up the length of the train.

Stella sighed and followed him at a light job. She could hear Curtis and Edgar following behind her. "Timmy!" She called as she went. She lunged for him, making Timmy squeal with laughter before twisting away, running faster.

"Timothy, your mum is going to give you a damn good spanking," Edgar threatened, lunging forward to grab him. But Timmy ducked around a corner and disappeared. Stella craned her neck, trying to find him while Curtis waited patiently. "I don't know where the fuck he went." Then Timmy scurried behind him and he raced for him once more. "Hey, hey, come here!" He jumped up high when Timmy scampered up to the higher bunks, close to the ceiling.

"Timmy," Stella called in her most motherly tone, following his path along the floor of the train car. "Come here. We really need that protein bar that you've got."

Edgar, however, continued to bark. "Give it! Giive us it. Timmy! Work with me here!"

"He's not going to come down from there," Tanya warned, standing next to Curtis. She placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "There's nothing he likes more than hide and seek than tag. He and all the other little kids play it all the time."

Stella lifted an eyebrow, staring at Edgar. Edgar looked back at her, looked away, then did a double take. "He got himself up there, Stells!" He defended himself. "He's very nimble."

"He's five," she said with a chuckle.

"Well, he's a very nimble five-year-old."

With a sigh, Curtis grabbed a nearby ladder and climbed up to the bunk near the very top of the ceiling. He held on tightly, looking up at the young boy who gazed back at him. "Hey, come here." He motioned for Curtis to lean closer. "What do you want for it?"

"In the whole wide train?" Timmy asked, eyes widening.

"The whole wide train!"

Stella smiled.

For a moment, Timmy turned his gaze to the ceiling. He rocked back and forth. Then lowered his chin and leaned closer to Curtis. "The ball!"

"The ball?" Curtis made an expression of mock-annoyance. He shook his head rapidly, comically. Nearly knocked himself off the ladder to make Timmy laugh. "No, no I'm sorry, I can't do that."

"Yes, I get the ball for a whole hour."

Curtis looked back to Stella, a questioning look in his eye. She reached up a hand and flashed the peace sign. Two hours. Curtis nodded back. Held his hand out to Timmy. "Done!" He shook Timmy's hand firmly, took the protein block, then jumped off the ladder to the ground.

Tanya was on him in a second. "Curtis?" Her voice held an anxious tone, partially from having chased her son to the highest point of the train, and partially for what was to come. "Is it time?"

"Not yet, Tanya," Curtis replied. Then he looked Stella in the eye, adding, "Soon."

She was starting to hate that word.

Because 'soon' meant a lot of things. But for the passage of time, soon could never come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**03**

* * *

Stella groaned lightly when Kimberly dropped onto her stomach, pouncing as soon as she came back from visiting Timmy and Tanya. _So much like a child,_ Stella thought with a grin. She reached out and gently ran her fingers through Kimberly’s long hair. There were many times she forgot that Kimberly was only seventeen and knew nothing but life on the train.

In many ways, Kimberly _was_ still a child. She didn’t get the chance to experience life outside of the four walls, didn’t get to know the ins and outs of social interactions with people from different cultures, didn’t get to learn anything other than train life. Once you were on the train, the train was your life and there was nothing that could be done to change that. She was infantile in her education and her experiences, often lashing out when it was brought to her attention. Kimberly wasn’t stupid, she was very intelligent and knew how to use that intelligence to her advantage—many times showing how manipulative she could be, and it always made Stella smile.

But as fond as she was of the girl, Kimberly also had the tendency to not know when to leave situations alone. Especially when she felt she was being left out of something.

“So? What happened?” Kimberly asked, half draping herself against Stella, getting comfortable. “What’d you find? What did Curtis say?”

“Do you see Curtis here?” Stella replied, gesturing with her hand. She looked to Edgar, who shook his head, dropping down into his own bunk. He crossed his legs at the ankle, bringing his arms behind his head. With a low sigh, he closed his eyes. “He’s with Gilliam.”

Kimberly made a face. “Curtis is the only one who ever gets to talk to Gilliam,” she mumbled, almost pouting. “And why does Gilliam get to have his own room while the rest of us are trapped together likes sardines in a can?”

Stella pushed away the thought of how much she suddenly missed the taste of sardines. It wasn’t a usual treat for people, but it had been a snack that she always loved to have when she was home. It also gave her some of the meaner nicknames that kids could come up with in school when she decided to bring it for lunch.

‘Smella’.

How on the nose and equally unoriginal.

“You know how things go, Kim.” Stella reached up and started to braid Kimberly’s hair. Kimberly closed her eyes, turning her head to the side to rest on Stella’s stomach, allowing the comforting gesture. “Gilliam deserves his own place. You know his relationship with Curtis. There’s some things they need to talk about in as much privacy as they can get. And we all know privacy is a luxury.”

“Yeah…” Kimberly let out a long sigh. “I wish I had my own room.”

“You’re not the only one,” Stella teased. “With how many times I’ve caught you and Ed trying to engage in some of that _privacy_.”

In the seventeen years she'd been on the train, privacy was a concept some people grasped and others didn't. People like Gilliam, who had his own ways of coping while on the train, knew when and where to move to not disturb others. But then there were those who fucked out in the open, who simply pulled each other onto their beds and went at it, the springs and metallic frames managing to drown out the sounds of the rolling train. Then there was Edgar and Kimberly, who preferred to sneak to quiet corners and unused areas to trade fingering, hand jobs, oral sex, and fucking to resemble some sort of normal life. Though they never actually _tried_ to hide what they were doing; their erotic moans and gasps could be heard from anyone who tried to hide it.

Made some others envious, some disgusted, but many of the tailies were so used to the tiny comforts and pleasures that people grasped for that it was barely noticeable as the days passed.

Kimberly shook her head. Stella could’ve sworn she heard Edgar snort but when she looked over at him, his eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly, as if he was asleep. “It’s not my fault there’s no place for any of us. There’s more than enough for Gilliam and Gray…”

“I’m just saying to be careful—”

“—It’s not like I can get pregnant or anything. Timmy and the others are the last kids they want us to have, remember?” She reached up, patting the braid that Stella put in her hair and smiled appreciatively. “Stop worrying so much. I mean, you’re my mom, but, you know, you’re not…”

Pain flooded through Stella’s chest at Kimberly’s words. At the accuracy of it all. She was a mom, but she wasn’t…no one was going to mess with Kimberly and Stella made sure that nothing happened to her, often having hid her as an infant when she started to get fussy, in case there were any guards around that would suddenly become frustrated at the increase in population of the tailies.

“Do you remember your mom?” Stella asked instead.

“Nope. No one’s ever told me anything about her. Just…that I was found…”

Stella didn’t quite know how to respond to that. It wasn’t good to know nothing about your past. And there was always a sense of fear of what was going to happen to the woman if she was found to be pregnant when the ‘ban’ was put in place. The pregnant women were treated slightly better than those that were not, but not enough that kept babies safe. There were many miscarriages and stillborn deaths due to the stress of being on the train. There were more than enough women who’d died in childbirth. And then there were those who were found to be pregnant in a case of unfortunate circumstance and were never seen again.

The workers always said it was because the women were taken further uptrain so that they could be taken care of in their pregnancy, seen how far along they were, and were to be made comfortable. The saying was that they were then used to work in the front trains after giving birth, but there weren’t many tailies who believed it.

The number of infants who were then ‘found’, some alive, some dead, had warned more than enough of the tailies the true extent of it all. They had no power, and what should have been something that brought excitement to their lives was something that instilled fear and worry.

“But thanks for bringing up such a painful memory,” Kimberly continued, rolling her eyes.

“You can be so dramatic sometimes.” Stella reached down and dug her fingers into Kimberly’s sides, making her giggle and squirm away. “Go get some sleep, I’ll let you know when Curtis comes back.” She swatted at Kimberly, who rolled off the bed and went to do as she was told.

For a moment, Kimberly’s absence made Stella aware of how cold her bunk was, but it was replaced seconds later with Edgar ungracefully dropping into the end of her bed. Stella jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance. Then she rolled her eyes and said, “I knew you weren’t sleeping.”

“We’ve found something much too important to sleep, yeah?” Edgar replied. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his nose. “There’s always something going on. No rest for the weary.”

“What do you want, Ed?”

For the first time in a long time, Edgar didn’t look so confident as he lounged on the end of her bed. He pulled his gloves higher up on his hands. The sound of ripping fabric could be heard, but he continued to make the same movements. “Did you mean what you said?” He asked.

Stella thought about to her conversation with Kimberly. She wrinkled her nose, working to figure out what it was Edgar was referring to. Did she mean it when she said that Kimberly needed to be careful? Yes, she absolutely meant that. Not that Kimberly or any other women in the tail section could get pregnant anyway, the rest of the train made sure to keep the tail section sterile within the last few years. But she was also trying to give the sort of advice she would’ve given any seventeen-year-old. _Be careful you’re not getting too sucked into something you’re used to. Be careful that you’re not focusing on a dream of what you want but what you’re never going to get. Be careful…_

“About…” she pressed.

“That Kim’s just with me because she’s desperate…” Edgar lowered his gaze to his hands, picking at the frayed strands of fabric coming off the sides. He pursed his lips when it started to unravel a little then shrugged. There was enough duct tape around the train that would fix that up in a jiffy. Most of their clothes were in tatters, shinning the silvery reflection of their patch jobs. An apt representation of what her words probably made him insecure about—that things weren’t great and there was just a patch of duct tape keeping them together. “I mean, it’s cool if she is, I just, you know…I’d like to know.”

“Ed…” Stella let out a long breath. She closed her eyes, unable to face him knowing she’d allowed her own insecurities and jealous to get in the way of other people’s happiness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She played with her fingers, twisting them together. “I was just teasing you.”

Edgar nodded, but didn’t respond. He hummed to himself, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. He roughed it around for a moment. “Right, yeah. It’s just…” he pursed his lips. “I know we’re kind of young. I know everyone talks about us—”

“—That’s because no one can mind their own business,” Stella reminded him. She placed a hand on her chest. “Myself included, obviously.” Edgar chuckled. “And, you know, it’d help if you guys were a little bit more discreet about things.”

“I can’t help that we’re hot and heavy for each other. At least we’re having some sort of fun on this rust bucket.”

“Planning the revolution isn’t fun for you?”

The side of Edgar’s mouth turned up in a smile. Then it faded and he looked at Stella once more. “I really do love, her, Stells. There’s other girls here, other women…but Kim’s always been different to me.”

He wasn’t wrong. All the other young women who were a bit older than him, two or three years, sometimes more if they were really craving companionship, had hit on him at some point of another. Some had even straight up propositioned him for sex; flashing open their long coats to reveal nothing underneath, promising things would be quick and he didn't have to pretend he loved them. But Edgar only ever had eyes for Kimberly. Even when they were in their pre-teens with nothing in the train that would resemble a school, he had a little kid crush on her, tormenting her with rude jokes, grand gestures, and smartass comments that would get her attention.

Curtis consistently had to reign Edgar in when he was getting to be a bit too out there with his antics, to focus on survival. But still managed to give some helpful advice. Stella asked Curtis what he said to Edgar to have him turn and suddenly be the shyest little boy while around Kimberly. But Curtis merely shrugged and smiled in response.

Stella remembered what she’d told Kimberly when she’d come whining up to Stella saying, “Why won’t Ed leave me alone?” Stella instantly replied with a blunt, “Because he likes you.”

It made her laugh Kimberly Stella replied with a just as blunt, “Duh! I know _that_!” Then her nose wrinkled and she asked, “But does he have to be so annoying about it?” And Stella laughed and wrapped her arms around the young girl, impressed with the way she was handling things on the train. (Though, Kimberly did knock the wind out of Edgar with a solid punch to the stomach after one day of his getting too close).

“Are you really going to get married?” Stella asked, slightly changing the subject away from a topic she knew was coming. “If things end up working out, we get off the train, life returns to normal…” Whatever normal was. “Are you going to start a life together.”

“We already have a life together; I just want to make it official. Kim’s mine, Stells. She’s my person. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to be able to provide a life, an _actual_ life for her. Not this…shite that we’ve been stuck with on this bloody train.”

Stella grinned. “So, you want to stand up at an altar in that tux with all the flowers and the bridal party and everything?”

Edgar nodded. “Dressed to the nines. Whatever she wants.” He thought for a moment and grinned. “Curtis owes me a big bachelor party.”

“And who’s going to be your stripper? Mason?”

Edgar’s face screwed up in an expression of such abject horror that Stella burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed, tears coming to her eyes, her stomach aching. She hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. The pain of her stomach muscles scared her for a moment, until she remembered the cause for it. The sudden, sharp pain of sadness made her laughter subside.

“Very funny.” Edgar mumbled. He suddenly lifted his head and looked her right in the eye. “You ever been in love before?”

The muscles around her mouth tightened. Her heartbeat increased so rapidly that it was painful. “Once,” Stella replied shortly.

“How’d it end?”

Stella made the mistake of looking up at the exact moment that Curtis left Gilliam’s room, locking eyes with him. “It didn’t.”

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry it took me a while to get an update to this story, but I had a good time with this one! Most of this story is focusing on Stella and Curtis, but it was good to see how Stella and Edgar relate to each other. And there’s going to be some with Kimberly and Curtis as well.

I’ll update again soon!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	4. Chapter 4

**04**

* * *

Curtis barely had the chance to explain everything he and Gilliam spoke about before Edgar broke in. Curtis let out a low breath of exasperation, exchanging a glance with Stella, where she twitched her eyebrows upwards and smiled in response.

“Prison?” Edgar cried as soon as the word escaped Curtis’s mouth. His eyes widened in shocked surprise before his mouth took over. His mouth that was almost constantly running. This time, however, he was speaking everything that Stella worried about. “You’re joking right?”

“Ed—” Curtis started, but was then cut off when the young man kept going. He smiled a tiny bit, of which he hid within seconds. His frustration continuing when he realized that Ed wasn’t going to listen to him that time.

“But what kind of chance do we have—”

“—Edgar—”

Ed paused for the briefest of seconds. His eyes flickered as if he were trying to determine whether it was worth it to keep quiet or speak. But Edgar had never seen silent for too long. Even when he was an infant, he would have small bursts of being quiet when he wasn’t babbling like a baby would. “—I just think if this guy says that he’s such a great security expert why can’t he just break himself—”

“—That’s enough!” Curtis said with such finality that Edgar’s jaw immediately slammed shut. He brought up a hand, running it over his head, over the beanie that was always covering his short hair. He sighed and looked at Edgar sternly, warning him once more, and with more conviction, not to say anything more. Especially about matters he didn’t understand.

Edgar sighed and slid off Stella’s bed. He sulked off, shoulders rounded forward and his hands in the pockets of his coat. He practically kicked the ground as he went. Stella thought he was going to look over his shoulder, stare at Curtis, sigh longingly, and then keep going to make sure Curtis felt some sort of guilt over the way he was treating him.

Nevertheless, Curtis couldn’t be swayed. He did feel guilt, but he didn’t show it very often. Nor more than a lot of other emotions that may befall him. Stella watched Edgar go, smiling as, in the distance, she saw Timmy playing with a large, partially inflated, ball. One of the few things of entertainment on the entire train.

“You could be a bit nicer, Curt,” Stella remarked as soon as Edgar was out of earshot. She rolled her head toward Curtis, bringing her knees up to her chest. With her shoulder, she nudged him on the arm. “That was really harsh.” A shudder went through her and her body quivered. Another tick. They were starting to get worse.

Curtis held up a finger and pointed it toward her. “Don’t start.”

“He looks up to you, you know,” Stella continued. She looked toward Edgar again, her smile widening when she saw he was being comforted by Kimberly. His head rested in her lap, while she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair, her face turned away, down the hallway that led to nowhere and everywhere. Her heart panged with a mixture of heartwarming and sadness. “He just wants to help.”

“He shouldn’t worship me the way he does,” Curtis replied, shaking his head. He ran his hand over his heat once more. A nervous tick, she realized. Something he did when he was tired, when he was bored, when he was angry, when he was frustrated. She knew he missed his long hair, she remembered how spikey it was. A haircut she’d made fun of shortly after they’d met. A reprieve from the stoic stillness of being on the train. He’d reacted indignantly, running his hand through his spikes and saying it was the style.

Not long after that, when malnutrition set in, his hair started to fall out. Then ‘they’ had it cut short for ‘cleanliness’. A medical checkup. Curtis seemed to check out that day, to harbor the resentment for everyone that made it so that he scared anyone who came near him. Not her. She found that fear thrilling.

“I’m not who he thinks I am,” Curtis finally remarked

Stella shrugged “Few of us ever are.”

Finally, Curtis’s scowl turned to the tiniest of smiles. “Gilliam said the same thing,” he remarked. Silence stretched between them. Stella shivered once more, blinked her right eye then left. Another tick. If Curtis noticed, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even move when his body quivered along with hers. He barely reacted the first time it happened, shortly after they met.

Other people reacted strangely, avoided her, hated anything that had to do with it, looked away when they saw her ticks when she was growing up. Before the medication. Since her medication had run out, years back, she worked hard on determining when it was going to happen and tired to suppress it. It hurt. So she stopped trying. The realization of it, allowing it to happen seemed to make them happen less, to make them less painful.

But it still flared up when she seemed to be especially emotional, stressed, worried. In essence, it only started to become worse when she thought of the revolution and how long it was going to take before ‘soon’ came again.

“Anyway, we’re here,” Curtis said, pointing toward the bed. Stella sighed quietly, knowing the conversation was going to turn back to it eventually. He moved his fingers along the bed, as if counting the cars in the trains. No, specific sections. The train was longer than any of them knew, she heard the whispering. Many cars that hadn’t been visited, but thought of.

How rumors spread when one of those in the tail section that moved up, then moved back down, said the other sections were greater than any of them could believe. That there was a night car where people would sleep together in couples, in groups, so that they could enjoy the time they had together while revolving around the Earth. Raunchy stories of couplings, horrific stories of young teens who didn’t know any better, of pregnancies that filled the front of the train where it was a miracle and something to be celebrated. Rather than the tail section where they had no freedoms.

“Tail section,” Curtis said, pointing toward the bed. Then to other portions as he spelled things out for her. “Quarantine section. Prison section. Gate, gate, gate. Four seconds when all three gates are open at once.” He lifted his hand, curling his fingers into his fist and looked right into her eyes. For a moment, as it always happened when she looked into Curtis’s blue eyes, Stella found herself transfixed. “Four seconds to go through three gates and bust Nam out.”

“Nam?” Her eyes shifted. She didn’t remember hearing anything about a ‘Nam’ on the train. There were a few older people, who had died shortly after Snowpiercer left and the malnutrition set in, who had served in Vietnam. But those stories had died out years ago. “

“Namgoong Minsu,” Curtis explained. “He was the one who designed the security features on the train.” He bobbed his head. “Once Wilford was done with him, Nam was put into the prison locker. He’s asleep.” He sniffed, using his sleeve to wipe his nose. Stella chuckled and shook her head. She’d seen more than enough of other people than a lack of privacy could ever give, still managed to feel a little sense of disgust.

For better or worse.

“Once we get to Nam, awake him from his sleep. He’ll get us the rest of the way up the train. Our fate depends on it.”

“Curt, he’s been asleep for…who knows how long. How do we know he’s going to help us. He may be…” She took a deep breath. “Who knows if he’s still even there, mentally…” Curtis didn’t respond, he lifted his head and looked forward, almost staring into nothing. Or directly into the future he was dependent on. “So…we’re going to the front section?” She asked instead.

“Mhm.” Curtis finally shifted his gaze back to hers. “From here right to the front of the train. Everything in one stroke. We control the engine; we control the world. Without it we have nothing. All past revolutions have failed because they couldn’t take the engine.”

A creeping feeling slowly started to fall over her. A dark shadow that’d always been there, that she kept at bay with as much light and brightness as she could muster. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to do that. She knew the answer to her question before she asked it. “How do you plan…”

“We kill him,” Curtis said. Plain and simple. That was part of the plan and he always knew what was going end up that way. With death of some sort. Or rather the sacrifice of anything and everything to get to--

“Wilford? You’re going to kill Wilford”

“Gilliam should run the train, not him.”

“Curt…”

Curtis blinked slowly, then his eyes darkened. He knew what Stella was thinking before she even had to say it. They were that connected. Or, rather, she hoped he realized they were. It was hard not to be directly next to someone for years and not feel there was a connection in some aspect. Even if it was one-sided. “I’m not a leader.”

Stella reached out and shoved his head. Curtis smiled when he leaned to the side, then leaned back to her. “Like hell you’re not,” she declared. “You can lead circles around anyone here. Even Gilliam. You’d be one hundred times better than Wilford.” She nudged him once more, lowering her voice. “I think you’d be pretty good if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” He smiled teasingly, making Stella roll her eyes.

Then she leaned over and rested her head against his arm. Against his shoulder. Focused on the warmth that radiated from his body. A warmth that always seemed to be there, no matter how thing he became. She wondered, worried, if all the stress of plotting the revolution was speeding up the rest of his life.

He didn’t eat as much of the protein bars as the rest of them. As a matter of fact, it seemed that he was purposefully hoarding them for something. Stella continuously asked but he waved her off, broke off half his own, and forced her to eat it, knowing she was giving hers away to the young kids.

He never did care much for himself, looked out for himself.

Cutis opened his arm and wrapped it around Stella’s shoulders, bringing her closer to his side. She snuggled against him, closing her eyes, focusing on his steady breathing. Wondered if he was thinking about how things could’ve been between them but knew his mind was stuck on the revolution. It was all he thought about lately, though all she thought about was him.

But that was okay.

It’s what Stella was there for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit smut in this one

**05**

* * *

**Seventeen Years Ago**

* * *

“Mom! Dad!”

Stella raced back and forth, picked something up, put something down, then would do it all over again. Her mind whirled. Her hands shook. She didn’t know what to put into her bag. Or even if she needed a bag. Every time she crossed the room, she thought she knew what she wanted to get, but the adrenaline was making her second guess herself.

Did she need her books? There wasn’t going to be anymore made as far as she knew. Did she need her summer clothes? It would cool down at some point, right? Right?? What about her hat collection? There was no point in grabbing those. But she needed her wallet, identification if they ever needed it in the ‘new world’, her favorite necklace her parents gave her for her thirteen birthday, her medication, a picture of her and her best friend, a hat, some gloves, some books, her phone…what else? What else? What else?

“Mom?! Dad?!” She called again.

And listened hard, listened for her parents to go around and gather their things. Judging by her footsteps, they weren’t moving as quickly as she would have liked. As quickly as her beating heart was making her fly across her room would’ve been nice. Every time she passed her window, she looked out the window, watching as the snow fell faster and faster. It was accumulating much more than she would’ve liked, and she _loved_ the snow.

But knowing it was getting between her and survival, she couldn’t imagine stopping to stick her tongue out to allow snowflakes to melt and drip away, or even to frolic through it, throwing herself to the ground to create snow angels. No, not when they only had so much time.

“Mom! Dad! Are you ready?”

How could anyone be ready to pack up their entire lives to save their lives?

Without a backwards glance, Stella picked up her bag and raced to the bottom floor to see to her parents. (She didn’t realize until later that she forgot to grab her comfort item, her stuffed bear, Beary Allen off her love of the Flash). She brushed her hair back from her face, watching as her parents continued to gently argue over whether they were going to bring their coffee maker.

Eyes widening in disbelief, Stella stared at her parents. They needed to get on the fucking train that was only coming around _once,_ their only chance of survival within a future that was taken away from them, and they were arguing over a _coffee maker_?!

“Come on!” She shrieked. “We have to go!” A strong shudder went through her, a wave of relief washing through her knowing she grabbed her medication. Only seconds before a crashing, sinking feeling of knowing it was only going to last so long. The last time they went to the doctor he’d said there was no point in refilling anything.

_“No one’s going to live long enough.”_

Her mother had insisted on a refill, but the doctor had turned them away. He had already given up. But Stella and her parents hadn’t, not yet. They were still going to make it. If only they would move faster.

“Honey, we’ll be right there,” Her father said, the pillar of strength he’d always been. Working hard to keep his wife and daughter safe, and not so far into their emotions as extreme as they could be. “I’m just trying to tell your mother that there are certain things we need to leave behind—”

“—I’m not leaving our wedding photos!” Her mother said stubbornly, clutching her bag to her chest.

“There’s more to life than our photos, hun. And we’ll make new memories where we’re going.” Stella nodded like a bobblehead along with her father. She squirmed from foot to foot, hoping that they’d decide sooner. The sound of a train horn in the distance made her blood run cold. “Come on!”

“Okay, honey, you start the car, we’ll get everything else!”

Stella grabbed the car keys and raced outside. The second she stepped out, she ducked her head beneath the falling snowflakes, and launched herself into the driver’s seat of the car—after struggling to force the door open. Who knew a heavy metal door would be even harder to separate from the car cold than when it was hot? The second the car was on, she threw on the heater, knowing it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Even through the two jackets and three sweaters she wore, it wasn’t enough to make her warm. Nothing would again. Not with the way the environment and climate change had become something that political officials thought could be messed with. That they could play God with, and once they messed things up, they managed to blame everyone else but themselves.

And now millions of lives were going to be lost all because they wanted to throw their money around and prove the could keep themselves alive. And she and her parents were going to be part of that if they didn’t _get their asses to the car!_

Stella slammed her fist on the horn over and over, harder each time. Finally, the front door flew open and her mother and father bustled out, waddling beneath the large amount of clothes they wore to keep warm. Her father shoved her mother into the car and directed Stella to leave the driveway. She pulled out from the driveway, slush flying in all directions as the tires spun. Grabbing the steering wheel, Stella steered herself out of the driveway the best she could and hurried in the direction of the train yard.

She drove as fast as she could, at safe speeds, the rear end fishtailing as she went. She didn’t realize tears were streaming down her cheeks until she turned to look at her parents huddling in the backseat, and the blast of warm air struck her face, making her eyes water and add even more tears that collected under her chin.

The snow blew by the windows like she was blowing through a science fiction movie, like blowing through the universe of stars in the Millennium Falcon. And yet, Stella never eased off the gas. As they blew toward the train yard, she squealed around cars that had become stuck—abandoned—in the road, people that banged on the side of the car, trying to get her to stop so they could climb in, worked to flag her down. But she kept going, trying to ignore her father’s mumbles to ease her mother’s quiet whimpering.

Stella tried to drown them out, tried to ignore her mother’s quiet, “What if we don’t make it?” and drove faster and faster.

Finally, she saw the train in the distance, and grinned in relief. All before shrieking and slamming on her breaks. She slammed her eyes shut, screaming as the car pivoted and swirled in the snow as she tried to keep from slamming into the cars abandoned in front of her. The world twisted and twirled around as she willed for the car to stop. Finally, _finally_ , it jolted, swinging her forward against the seatbelt before being thrown back in her seat.

“Oh God.” She sucked in a deep breath and slumped back in her seat. Taking in deep breaths. All before the sounds of the frantic screaming reached her eyes, bringing her back to reality. Another blast of the train’s horn made her jump and leap to leave the car.

She threw the door open and grabbed her bag, sliding out, plunging her feet into the deep snow. Gasping, Stella hiked up her feet, trying to make her way through the every growing snowdrift, accompanied by the blizzard-like snow behind them. The Blizzard was coming closer, faster, they had to move!

“Go! Go!” Her father shouted.

Stella hitched her bag up her shoulder and started to run, hearing her parents’ puffs behind her as they trudged through the snow, moved closer to the roaring carnage that stood between them and the train. Still, Stella kept moving forward, ducking her head, trying to appear smaller than she was, working to keep from being a target from the chaos around her.

Every where she looked were people who worked to keep themselves alive; men punched each other in the face, blood flying from their noses, teeth scattered along the ground. Others were stabbed with sharp objects, ripping skin open, entrails littering the snowy ground with its gore. Others were being viciously ripped away from the doors of the train, shoved back to the ground as they screamed, desperately, for their survival.

Looking to the side, Stella gasped, almost careened to a stop, seeing a woman being brutally raped in the snow, screaming and crying to be let up on the train by a man who—judging by the rifle attached to his back—was one of the officers that were to keep order of the people trying to board. Instead of responding, he reached out and turned her head to the side, pressing her face into the snow as he continued to rapidly thrust into her, moving faster as the seconds passed.

Stella averted her eyes once more, mentally pushing herself forward to the doors of the train. She squeezed by the crowd working to push themselves straight into the open door and wiggled into the train. The contrast to the outside was immediate; going from the blinding swirl of light to abject darkness. The volume of the screams and whimpers of terror increased once she was inside, a bellowing cacophony of despair that rumbled through Stella’s stomach.

“Mom!” Stella turned on her knees, scrambling to turn herself toward the doorway, working ot keep herself from getting knocked off her feet by the surge trying to get inside. “Dad!” She hefted herself to the side of the door and leaned forward, pressing her face outside. Her tears froze to her cheeks. “Mo—”

Her cry died out in her throat, mouth hanging open. She stared.

Stared at the carnage in front of her.

The first wave was nothing, she barely moved as she was hit by the survivors scrambling to get on board. She stared as men in front of her were gunned down, their heads and chests exploding with force, arms and legs jerking when the bullet passed through them. Eyes staring open and empty when they hit the snow, blood gushing out of their wounds like fountains. Then there were those that had been stabbed, desperately holding their intestines into themselves, slipping through their fingers as they crawled toward the opening of the train, leaving bright red streaks behind them. Steaks immediately covered by snow drifts as the blizzard came closer.

There were those that had been beaten up in the mass hysteria, eyes popping out of their heads, gruesome wounds on their hands and faces, moving like zombies as they shuffled forward on what appeared to be broken legs. Mothers who wailed over their children’s bodies, trampled and stomped on as they became the sheep for the slaughter. Babies ripped from their mother’s arms and thrown to the snow where their cries immediately stopped, others falling silent when the blizzard overtook them.

But Stella only focused on the figures of her parents. Who hadn’t gotten too far from their car. _“Go! Go!”_

The blizzard had to have been closer than Stella realized. She hadn’t looked in the rearview mirror as she drove. Her father must have been staring out the back window as he comforted his wife, who worried if they didn’t make it from the blizzard. She had to have seen it. Had to have given up. Because their odies were wound together, as if in a final hug of comfort, bags not even taken from their car. The blizzard had overtaken them, turned them to ice statues within seconds, robbing the breath from their lungs, freezing them inside and out. A painlessly painful way to die.

Their car doors, wide open, swung back and forth as desperate scavengers went inside the bags left inside and rooted around, looking for anything they could take and keep them alive. And slowly, very slowly, their bodies were chipped away, broken, and _shattered_ by the people that hurried past them— _through_ them—as if they were simply obstacles of what’s get them to freedom.

Stella sucked in a deep breath, cried out at the stinging in her lungs. “Mom!” She reached forward, struggling to get off the train. “Dad! Mom!”

“No!” An arm reached out from inside the train and grabbed onto her wrist. Pulled her back inside. Stella tightened her grasp on the door handle, trying to work back against the pull and break free. If she couldn’t be with her parents on the train, she’d be with them in spirit. “No! You can’t!” The arm pulled harder, making Stella fall on her butt. She was dragged backwards to the other end of the train car, far away from the crush of people that continued onto the train.

Kicking and screaming, Stella worked to get out of the grasp that held her tightly, but quickly found her energy depleting. Finally, all she could do was sit and scream as the seconds passed. Scream as the doors were closed. Scream as the train slowly started moving, taking her further and further away from her parents and her previous life, taking her deeper into the unknown.

Eventually, she stopped screaming, her voice became horse, she whimpered quietly. Sobbed silently. Hung onto the arms that wrapped around her, holding her still. She barely got a chance to see who it was that was holding onto her, there was barely any light in the train, only the passing glimpse through the cracks in the train that covered him. She saw spikey blonde-brown hair, barely covered by a ski hat and bright blue eyes that, somehow, seemed to cut through the darkness. Eyes that stayed bright despite the darkness that seemed to harden his face.

He didn’t speak for another three hours, only holding her closely as her sobs slowly turned into a silent numbness, only broken apart by her sudden yet infrequent twitching. A harsh reminder of her former reality that’d just been smashed to pieces as her parents’ bodies had been.

“I’m Curtis.”

The word broke the silence around them. Silence she hadn’t realized that’d settled over the train car. Stunned silence, as if no one could believe what they’d just experienced. But the word gave her life, kept her going.

“Stella,” she murmured in response.

It wasn’t until a few days later where they talked more. Where Stella had, finally, gotten over the reality that she wasn’t going to be getting off the train. That she wasn’t going to be reunited with her parents. That they weren’t coming back. That she had to move forward without them, to survive in some way. It’s what they would’ve wanted. They always said she had to work hard to overcome things in life, it was always how she reacted to things that happened to her that was most important.

They wouldn’t have wanted her to sit back and wallow and mope.

So, she made the decision, then and there, that if she were to survive, she’d survive for them. So, on the third day, she found Curtis curled up in his corner and sat next to him, holding out a piece of a bread that she’d found on the ground, leftover from a scuffle of two other survivors. Curtis glanced at her, as if breaking away from his stupor, then at the bread, then uncurled himself.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the food from her. For a moment, Stella thought he was going to eat the whole thing himself, but he split it in half, eyed the bigger piece, then kept the smaller one for himself, handing back the bigger one. Stella’s eyebrows rose in question. “I don’t need much more than that. I don’t want to bring attention to myself.”

“Bring attention to yourself?” Stella opened her mouth to take a big bite of bread, then paused and nibbled at the corner.

It was dry; a few days stale, but it was better than starving. Snowpiercer, as they knew the train to be called through whispers, had more people on it than there was food available. Rations started for those tat the front of the train then trickled all the way to where they were. By the time they got food, it was scraps. There were rumors and whispers that people were going to be taken from the rear ends of the trains and brought to the middle and front so that the production of food could increase tenfold.

She and her parents had spoken about it before, when the news of the CW-7 bomb had started to break, when the temperatures started to plummet. There had to be something the politicians and celebrities were doing to keep themselves safe. The President had to be thinking of something, all the other leaders of the nations had to have some fail-safe plan to ensure civilization moved on.

Soon, they were hearing about the Snowpiercer from Wilford Industries.

“The less food there is to share, the worse things are going to get.”

Time went on, they talked more, became friends. Or as much of friends as you could be when stuck in close quarters like that. As the days went on, something stirred in Stella’s chest that she couldn’t quite figuring out. A horrible, burning feeling. It stuck with her. It was one of the few things she couldn’t tell Curtis about, he wouldn’t understand. Couldn’t… It only got worse as time went on as she struggled to figure it out.

Kept her so much in her head that she didn’t notice much around her. That others had noticed that she was young and often by herself when not with Curtis. That, maybe, being in her head so much was making her more vulnerable than she’d liked. That she should’ve paid more attention to not be cornered and grabbed so easily.

Then, the men were away from her, had stopped grabbing her, and were nursing their wounds with Curtis by her side, glaring over his shoulder and dragging her to a quieter section of the tail section of the train. No one wanted to be that far back in the bunk, at the very end where they could hear everything from the train.

They stayed silent for a long moment, Stella still shaking from what she’d seen. Shaking from the fear, but also shaking from seeing how Curtis had shaken off his ‘lone wolf’ persona to protect those around him. People he didn’t even know. Then easily blended back into the shadows to be himself.

“What?” Curtis asked, noticing her stare.

“Nothing just…” she wasn’t going to say the words out loud. _“You remind me of my dad,”_ because that would’ve been weird. That would’ve ruined the mood, if there were one. He wouldn’t have understood that she meant how strong her father always was in every facet of life so people didn’t worry. Their strength was familiar, comforting. It made tears come to Stella’s eyes, tears that she hadn’t shed in so long.

Curtis reached up his hand and brushed her tears from her cheek. His long, thin fingers slid over her skin before his palm pressed against her cheek, thumb clumsily pressing against the corner of her mouth. Their eyes continued to meet, a burning between them that suddenly flushed Stella’s body, making heat rise to her cheeks. They moved at the same time, lips colliding in a passionate yet awkward kiss. Awkward for all the right reasons; the timing, the place, the angle they were sitting in, but passionate for how long they’d held back, for working on the tension growing between them.

His lips were rough and chapped but scraped deliciously against hers when they parted then pressed together once more. Stella reached up and grasped Curtis’s collar, bringing him closer to her while his hands grasped at her lower back. Moaning sighs escaped the two of them, driving them to be as close together as they could get.

Stella gave a gasp of excitement when Curst moved his hands beneath her clothes, pressing his hand flat against the skin of her back. Warming her up even further, even quicker. The warmth spread through her body, nestling between her legs in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Makin her _need_ to feel touched, wanted, loved. Stella leaned into him, his tongue gently sliding along her lips before she met it with her own, angling her head to the side to kiss him deeper.

“Stella,” Curtis breathed.

Almost a question, but a sentence. A word to ensure it was happening. She responded with another kiss, bringing her hands up to frame his face, her thumbs running over the skin of his cheeks and chin.

Their kisses turned urgent, hands roaming and grabbing everything they could. Stella’s hands roved from his face to his chest an arm, feeling him as best she could through his jackets and layers. She felt his hands roam over her breasts and stomach before pressing on her shoulders to ease her back onto the bed.

Once lying down, the two quickly started to strip themselves of the jackets that were getting in the way, working to keep their lips together between each movement. Curtis leaned over Stella, grabbing at her hips and ass, sliding his tongue into her mouth that was half passionate, half clumsy. But everything Stella wanted in the moment. She kissed him back, running her tongue over his, making him gasp and turned his head away for air. Perfect for her to kiss her way down his neck, down his chest, gave herself time to lean her head back against the pillow below her.

She reached up her hands, made quick work of his belt and button, reached inside his pants to fish out his cock. Curtis’s breath caught in his throat when it sprang free of the confines of his pants. Curtis reached up one hand to brace against the top of the bunk, to keep himself from falling over as the direction of the train moved, Snowpiercer turning a corner.

Stella, however, barely noticed the train around them, their surroundings falling by the wayside. She only paid attention for the two of them, had eyes for him as she ever had. Opening her mouth, Stella raised her head, sticking the flat of her tongue against the underside of his cock then took him into her mouth. Reaching up a hand, Stella grasped the bottom of his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Curtis breathed, lowering his head, meeting her eyes.

Stella looked back at him, holding direct eye contact while she continued to blow him. She’d pull him far into her throat, then release him, pulling back long enough to swirl her tongue over his tip one more, sucking hard at the end. She brought her free hand, the one she’d been using to rub circles on his hip bone, down to cup his balls in her hand, rolling them between her fingers.

Focusing on making him feel good, Stella could feel his muscles tense, then backed off, bringing him close to finishing multiple times. When she felt she teased him enough, she pulled his cock out of her mouth and draped kisses along his waist and hips.

Finally, Curtis leaned back, shuffling along the bed so that his face was right next to hers. His lips crashed against hers, hid body pressing her into the bed, his hands reaching down to the waist band of her pants to lower them and her underwear. Then his fingers were inside her, pushing through her slick, pulsing folds that made Stella cry out.

Frantically, he worked his fingers into her, circling his thumb around her clit, making Stella’s back arch. Stella cried out, bringing her arms up to wrap around Curtis’s neck, bringing him closer to her. She opened her legs, allowing him to press his fingers deeper into her, to give him the space to tease her clit even more.

“Oh, God!” Stella cried, then slapped her hand over her mouth, feeling her face heat up even further. Everything around them had fallen by the wayside, but she didn’t want anyone to hear. Didn’t want anyone to see…

An almost wicked smile came across Curtis’s face. He tortured her a moment longer, pressed a kiss to her lips, then leaned back, grabbed himself to line up against her, then pressed himself inside her pussy. Stella moaned, feeling her lips spread around his thick shaft, warming her up from the inside as he continued to inch even further in. Stella arched her back, bringing up her legs to take him in even further.

Stella leaned up and kissed Curtis once more, sliding her tongue against his, bringing his bottom lip between her teeth. Curtis pulled back then pressed into her again, starting a steady rhythm, hips thrusting evenly against hers. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Stella’s neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth.

“Harder,” Stella gasped. She needed it. Needed to feel it. Needed to eradicate the burning, yearning in the center of her chest. Needed to stop feeling so…empty…so alone.

With one hand, Curtis grabbed her hip for leverage, the other reaching up to press flat against the top of the bunk. Steadying himself to pick up the pace and ram into her, no rhythm, just frantic thrusting. Stella let out a gasping moan, working to catch her breath, bucking her hips to meet every deep, hard thrust of his cock. The sound of their bodies slamming together drowned out the rocking of the train.

Stella grasped his hips, pulling him deeper into her, their bodies rocking together, heat increasing around them, sweat starting to form. A slow burn started to grow within Stella, making her gasp and grab the sheets below her. She locked her ankles around Curtis’s waist and lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts, desperate to cum.

Finally, pleasure washed over her, making her tightly grasp the sheets below her, a loud cry escaping her lips. Curtis continued to thrust into her as she convulsed beneath him, coming down from her euphoric high, the horrible feeling in her chest subsiding. Curtis continued pounding into her, his thick cock hitting all the right places. Within seconds, Stella could feel his muscles tense before he groaned, reaching his orgasm, pressing tight against her.

They only disengaged after catching their breath, tiredness taking over them. They quickly reclothed, suddenly feeling the chill in the air, reminding them of their plight, reminding them of the numerous layers they needed for the unforeseeable future. Stella brushed her hair back from her face, rolled onto her side her face close to his.

They stayed silent, staring at each other, allowed the train to lull them to sleep.

Stella watched him as he fell asleep, very slowly. First, staring directly at her, the bright blue eyes shining in the darkness that only his could cut through. Then his eyelids started to flutter, slowly yet surely closing as the hardened expression turned his face from that of an older soul to the seventeen-year-old boy he was.

She smiled quietly, hearing his first deep breath that proved his fatigue. Stella fell asleep shortly after.

It was comfort, she understood. They were nearly inseparable after that. Nothing else happened between them in that way, but there was a connection between them that couldn’t be denied. Something in her had changed that day, she felt herself falling for him as the days passed. Not just because of the sex, but because of him. Because of Curtis.

She knew he didn’t feel the same. It was comfort.

That was all.

But it wasn’t all that to her. Especially when, a few weeks later, she realized her period was late.


End file.
